Requiem Unsung
by Mojo Iko
Summary: Marking the beginning of the end of Joachim Armster's mortal life, it chronicles the dark ambitions of his lord, as well as his personal struggles with both God, and his own morality.
1. Chapter 1

The rain was no longer striking the earth, but rather rolling gently off of the clouds, and collecting in small puddles. The sun was pale, still shrouded by the murky fog above and below, which cast an eerie light from the heavens. Not a great distance away, church bells knolled and solemn voices drifted along in forlorn song, telling of yet another soul's ascension skyward; for those who had witnessed the brutality of warfare in the name of God, this daily event stirred an assortment of feelings within, typically of surrealism. The waves of plague had done well to annihilate entire families, ending miserable lives already marred by the barbarism of the Crusades. The corpses had been piled in front of homes, street corners, and wherever else they could be placed until gloomy chariots pulled by ebony horses came to retrieve them. The stench was always the worst part of a plague city; one could avert their eyes from blackening, bloated bodies, but it was difficult to escape that unrelenting odor of decay. And remarkably, amidst this rampant death, the people sang the holy praises without hesitation. Their God was a wise one, and a strange one indeed. He could command such profound respect and sacrifice from His men in arms, His knights, and yet has allowed for His subjects to become hopelessly wretched by the death around them. But the blatant idiosyncrasies were not on the minds of the former. It was not in their place to question; Lord have mercy on those that should ever dare to, while the Devil dances in admiration.

The northern wind blew cold on fair skin, compelling violet eyes to narrow; gloved hands gripped the reins of a snow white mare. The rider, visibly anxious as he sighed heavily, turned to listen to the familiar bells. _And so it goes,_ he sighed again.

"Sir Armster, Lord Bernhard awaits your presence in the Great Hall." The stocky attendant lowered his balding head, and stepped aside. The lean rider nodded and dismounted, holding a steady gaze upon the castle ahead of him. Black cloth crests adorning the towers fluttered in the damp breeze, the golden griffins twisting within the folds. He was quite thankful to be out of the cities; his lord's castle was nestled just inside of an immense forest, the endless miles of trees surrounding it offering relief from the filthy urban atmosphere. However, something in the damp air was foul this day, reeking not quite of death or disease. Sword and armor clinking as he stepped, he passed underneath the archway, eying the gargoyles hunched atop each side; though he had passed under this archway many times before, their macabre grins now seemed particularly unsettling. Pleasant memories of food, women, and song flooded his mind as he tried to repel his apprehension. In spite of all these more jovial times, it was never truly a place of comfort for him, the castle that is. As a gifted squire at an early age, and as the handsome eldest son of the Armster family, an illustrious clan of talented and wealthy sword makers, he was certainly predestined for this life; but, it was a life of separation, of blind fealty. So many weeks had gone by since last seeing his family that he finally had given up counting; the life of a holy soldier, as grand as it all was, was unkind to the soul, to the heart. Secretly, he wished it all away; he did not wish to die in battle, but he longed for an escape. His body was tired of fighting, for both God and his lord, two who seemed to take all of his sacrifices for granted.

The young knight stopped to salute as he approached the great hall, forcing a nervous smile. As he entered the room, a lone figure stirred in the dim firelight; a tall man sat at the head of a long oak table, sipping from a goblet of red wine and flipping through texts. He glanced upwards briefly to greet his new company.

"Ah, is that you, Joachim?"

"Yes, sir." _I will see my family tomorrow,_ he thought. _I just have to entertain him now._

"Ah, well come in! Have a seat. I've much to tell, and I suspect you can claim the same." The knight nodded, locks of his ashen hair falling into his face. This man possessed an uncommon beauty, a serene beauty not usually seen amongst men. Delicate features and a slight, almost cat-like frame made him an alluring figure; rare lavender eyes, and silvery hair barely brushing his shouldersadded to his ethereality. The castle's wily lord was also keen on this fact, and happily watched as he pushed the stray strands away gently.

"Still lovely as ever I see, not a scratch on that fine face of yours. With that, I trust the day's engagements went well." Walter ran a hand through his own long crimson tresses, the ends twisting into small silky curls that hung loosely down his back and broad shoulders. His motions were mildly hypnotic, and Joachim was temporarily lost in them.

"Yes...for the most part. We did lose some good men"

"And they can be replaced. Really, no need for details. I just need to know that my land is being protected from heathens. And after all, why should I have reason to fear? I have the best knights in the land securing my domain." He smiled, making sure he caught Joachim's gaze with his own as he spoke.

"You have my sincerest thanks." Joachim suppressed a chill; looking Walter Bernhard in his fiery eyes made most men swear they were facing off with Lucifer himself. There was something about his entire demeanor that even his closest friends found unnerving; it was something indescribably dark.

"Well, I've lately been entertaining myself with a rather curious notion." By this point, he had released his left hand from his hair and leaned back in his chair, his big boots propped up on the table.

"My lord...?" Joachim was becoming more uneasy; he had been anxious all day about returning here, and now he expected the worst to fly from those devious lips.

"You've heard of the Philosopher's Stone, have you not? I know you too are rather familiar with alchemy, like myself." _The Forbidden Arts?_ A bit surprised, Joachim leaned in sharply to whisper.

"Indeed, but with all due respect my lord, might we speak of this elsewhere, where it might be more private? You know what would happen if..."

"Yes, yes, I know. But I am not worried. I am the lord of this castle; I can call day night, and no man would have a say otherwise. Besides, who do you suppose I have around me here in this castle other than my friends and most trusted allies? Little to fear from that lot, one should hope."

"I understand. Please do continue."

"Now, since you and I both know you are knowledgeable regarding its background, I will spare you the historic details. However, I would assume that you've not heard of the Crimson and Ebony Stones."

"You would be correct. What are they?"

"I am so very glad you asked. I've been conducting some research lately, and have come across word of a pair of stones imbued with extraordinary power." Joachim's genuine curiosity quickly turned to suspicion, and he did not bother to mask it in his voice.

"What kind of power?" Still, Walter was not at all discouraged, and grinned smugly as he placed a hand on Joachim's shoulder.

"How would you like to be immortal, my son?"

"Immortal..."

"Yes."

"That's impossible."

"No, indeed it isn't."

"How then? Through the stone's power I take it?"

"Precisely. We could be timeless, you and I." Joachim shook himself from Walter's grasp and frowned.

"Any stone that claims to offer the wielder immortality is a vile stone, a stone certainly not of God! Why does it interest you so!"

"Oh, but you've not allowed me to explain. Please, try to understand. With this stone, one could exist eternally, witness every century from now until the End-Times! As you fight in the name of Christianity, your own name will become legendary! Surely God could not disagree with that."

"I was summoned from the battlefield to be offered immortality? Begging your pardon my lord, but I've no interest in something so...luxurious." Walter suddenly left his chair and leaned over the table, clearly agitated at his rejection.

"So, you'd rather die like a dog out there, your corpse rotting on some heathen battlefield, and history forgetting your name forever?"

"If all of that means I do not wish to become 'timeless', to live out an eternity without those I care most about around me, then yes. At least dying 'out there' would be honorable." Walter smirked, and slowly sunk back into his chair.

"You know, I do not have the stones, nor have I actually seen them. They may be...a work of fiction. Please do not let my...eccentricities disturb you."

"I disagree with the things in principle; whether they exist or not is irrelevant to me. May I ask you, my lord, what makes you so inclined to use them? Don't you have a family"

"Such a faithful servant like yourself deserves...something more." He raised one of his large hands, and proceeded to touch the youthful knight's face, enjoying the warmth and softness of his skin. A light moan escaped from his lips as the flames in the hearth flared behind them.

"If I ever were to lose you, it would destroy me. You know this, do you not?"

"Lord Bernhard..."

"Hush..."


	2. Chapter 2

A sweet morning breeze, scents of pine and earth, mixed with dew and wafted along as a divine perfume; the sun had at last freed itself from the clouds, and dispelled the gray that had for the past few days besieged the heavens. The sounds of birds and bells were soft in sleepy ears, still a bit muffled as he woke. He stretched and wriggled about, the sheets tickling his bare skin and causing him to shudder. _Damned room is always so cold._

"Ah, you've awakened. I was beginning to wonder if you ever would." There was that voice again, that familiar resonant voice introducing him to yet another morning-after. He often wondered what he was doing there, wondered how he was able to be seduced by a man as unnerving, as dubious as _Walter_. How could he end up in another _man's_ bed night after night, his own lord's nonetheless? It must have been blasphemous and God must have hated it, and as much as he damned himself for it, it was beyond his control, beyond _mortal_ control. Walter unfortunately possessed his own fiery brand of dastardly charm, and was prone to using it to get his way in most, if not all situations. Joachim could recall many a time when local lords and their ladies would come to call, and in the morning _either_ of whom would return from his chambers, hair mussed and skin rosy. Likely though, and with any luck, the young knight's pride would eventually hit its breaking point, releasing him from this spell, this binding of consciousness. It was an eager hope, anyway. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, the light stinging as Walter drew back the burgundy drapes further.

"Uh…yes." His flesh took on a kind of radiance in the sunlight; the pallor of it seemed to both absorb and reflect the sun's rays, affording him a glow fitting of a saint. His lord knelt down beside the bed, shamelessly taking another opportunity to touch him; he whispered softly as his rough lips moved on the neck below him.  
"Mmmmm…another night well spent." All Joachim could do was offer a sad smile, one that faded into the light that played on his face. It was then that he truly realized, for the first time, the nature of his plight. Until he was struck down by an enemy or by God Himself, here he would be forced to play the part of both steadfast protector, and fragile lover; there had been a time when he found this paradox amusing, but these days it seemed to distress him. However, he was not about to let him know that. He smirked at the scarlet-haired man and sat up, preparing to retrieve his clothing from the floor.  
"Don't children get tired of playing with the same doll over and over again?" But Walter was not interested in letting him get away just yet, pinning him back down.  
"What else I am to do when the doll keeps returning to my bed?"  
"Uh…" Joachim blushed in spite of himself. _Damn him._  
"Come now, it's not like you to be speechless. What is weighing on your mind?"  
"Nothing…in particular."  
"But certainly something."  
"Nothing worth sharing."  
"Hmmm, this wouldn't have anything to do with our conversation yesterday, would it?"  
Joachim sighed, and shook his head. But Walter knew him better.  
"You asked about my family, and no, I did not reply…because it was too painful to."  
"Too painful? May I ask what happened?" The lord looked towards the window, drawing a single deep breath before he continued.  
"I had a wife and child once, though the child was unborn…when they both died. My wife was stricken with a mysterious sickness, and when she died I lost my child as well."  
"I'm sorry. I…" Walter took his knight's hand, and held it tightly.  
"Don't be. It happened so long ago it seems. I have missed them, and there are days that I can't speak to anyone or leave my chambers. But I have moved on with my life, and am content with it as it stands. After all, I'm not alone—I have you by my side."  
"I see." Maybe it was the way his eyes looked then, or the way he held onto his hand so deliberately, but Joachim could sense something troubling. As they sat in an uncomfortable silence, the morning bells began to knoll, and the clopping of hooves grew louder. Suddenly releasing Joachim's hand from his, Walter flicked his wrist dismissively.  
"You should go see your family now. I've business to attend to."  
"Yes, sir." As he gathered his clothing, Joachim wondered aloud if such a fickle nature was learned or inborn.Walter either did not hear his words, or simply ignored them.


	3. Chapter 3

As Joachim walked about the castle grounds, he noted how little had actually changed in a year's time; it was hard to believe that twelve months had come and gone since his last 'encounter' with Lord Bernhard. But here he was yet again, called back from battle as expected. The same time every year he would receive the summons, the parchment bloodied by the hands of a different officer each time, as every year the man holding this particular post lost his life. He remembered once witnessing the death of one such officer, just after he delivered the summons. The man turned to leave, and upon treading but ten feet back into the field, was struck down by a stray arrow. He sighed. _Such morbid thoughts for springtime._

As he walked, the sky grew darker and the sweet winds blew lightly, ruffling his ashen hair. _I should be happy that I was able to see my family. And my, has everyone grown. Little Anna will be a bride soon._ He smiled to himself. He loved them all so dearly, it pained him to leave them each and every time he was made to return to war. In fact, it was the strength imbued in him from seeing his loved ones that prepared him to pay his lord the necessary visit. He knew that going without such a visit would only earn him an earful of reproach later on, but was thankful for attaining the patience to give the man audience.

He noticed the lack of people out and about this evening; not so much as four of five did he see scurrying about the premises, whereas usually many entertainers and strollers would frequent the estate well into the nighttime hours. Perhaps the clouds and cool haze made them wary of rain. He shrugged, and continued his walk toward the castle, where no doubt he would be waiting. But, the knight would make time for one other before Walter. Indeed, he would stop by the chapel first, to ask for forgiveness prior to committing his inevitable sin...

The sturdy wooden doors groaned as he pushed them open, and struggled to shut again behind him. At the head of the room, the six tall candles at the altar were lit; their soft light cast flickering shadows on the alabaster figures adoring either side. The priest was not in sight, nor was anyone else at all, and Joachim took both comfort and distress from this observation. He approached a bench and sat, leaning his clasped hands on the seat in front of him. His eyes closed, and he began to appeal to God. He spoke with a sullenness that he himself found disheartening, and was sure God would not appreciate, but he could do little to hide it. Far too much weighed on his mind.

"Lord, I thank you for your protection of my body and soul. I pray to you that I might receive your spirit to aid my mind, to renew my heart, to clear my conscience."

"You wish Him to do all that, eh?" That voicehearing it there, while his eyes were closed and he was alonemade him twitch in his seat. He turned to Walter, and attempted to force a very weak smile.

"I'm sorry, my lord. I was on my way"

"Hush...I am not angry with you. I myself was here, anyway."

"But, I did not see you when I came in. Where were you?"

"I was praying, like you. I suppose with my head down, you might not have noticed me."

"That's true." Walter took a seat next to him, to ensure that he was close enough to run a hand through his silver hair, and caress his peachy flesh. Joachim was becoming increasingly more uncomfortable with this, feeling that God was watching and in turn becoming increasingly more agitated.

"Please, not here..." He pulled away from the red-headed man's grasp as he said this; though the young knight's own face was stern and wracked with worry, Walter suddenly erupted into cacophonous laughter, exposing what appeared to Joachim as a pair of strangely-shaped, almost fang-like teeth.

"What? Are you still worried about Him knowing? You must understand that God already knows about you and your sins, as He does mine. No amount of hiding one's behavior will keep it from God." Joachim could not argue with this; Walter knew how to exploit his weaknesses, and the issue of morality was no exception. But as he spoke, he could not keep his eyes off of the odd teeth in Walter's mouth. Why had he failed to notice them before this?

"I...just would prefer not to offend God while sitting in His house." Walter grinned again.

"You know, I've offended Him, and lived to tell about it."

"What?"

"You recall my venture for immortality? Well, I've found it. And I'd like you to join me." He put a hand on his knight's cheek, but it was quickly slapped away.

"Your teeth! What's happened to you!"

"Ah, yes. When I came into possession of those stones, I became immortal then. These teeth, as well as my new addiction, are God's way of showing His disapproval. But I imagine I'll learn to live with them soon enough."

"What have you done? You've betrayed Him, and me..." An unexpected fondness overcame him, and for a moment, he felt compelled to pity the being before him. He reached out to touch Walter's face, gently stroking his brow and cheek. Walter's own hand flew to his face, holding Joachim's in place on his skin.

"Come with me...time would never touch us. I promise you...please..." As difficult as it was for him to do so, Joachim shook his head, and withdrew from his lord's embrace.

"No. I refuse to join you in this spectacular blasphemy. I will forfeit my title in the morning." Joachim turned his back to leave, but as soon as he left the bench, he was stopped and spun around painfully. Walter had grabbed his right shoulder, and then his arm, pulling him so close that their chests touched and their legs intertwined. He was afforded one last look before his lord descended like a great beast upon his milky throat. _God, save me from this evil. Please save me._ But divine aid would not arrive. He cried out as the teeth dug into the flesh of his neck, initiating a kind of rolling pain that sent shudders throughout his body. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes, but for some reason, they did not flow out. The blood ran down his neck, down his chest, and pooled on the floor. Hungry and lustful, the lord ripped open his tunic, and voraciously lapped at the straying blood.

"Thou shall not waste..." He snickered in between heavy breaths, and smiled, blood trickling down the side of his mouth; he wiped it away, and leaned over the now broken young knight who had collapsed in the pew.

"There. It is done. You are now as I, and you will learn to live as I do." Still short on breath, he stepped backward, and headed for the great oak doors, trekking into the darkness of the evening.

He left him there on the bench, writhing and bleeding profusely, slipping in and out of consciousness. As he laid there clutching at his neck, blood running through his fingers, he thought once again about his _fickleness_, his irreverence. His ultimate betrayal, in front of God no less. Is_ this _what he had served for more than seven years of his life? Is _this_ what he had given up nearly everything for? He remembered the last words Walter had said before he disappeared into the night: "You are now as I, and you will learn to live as I do". _Never_, he gasped, trying to pull himself across the newly slick floor. The great oak doors now seemed so small, so far away. Just out of reach.


End file.
